


Have a little faith

by fuckbands



Category: All Time Low
Genre: Claustrophobia, Gen, Panic Attacks, Sorry?, This seems like it would continue, WBC being assholes, because this is terrible, but it is a one-chapter dealio, or not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckbands/pseuds/fuckbands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gross people are gross, Jack needs Alex to help him out of a tight spot. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have a little faith

**Author's Note:**

> i'm such a horrible person i'm sorry! inspired by the wbc picketing all time low's concert way-back-when. your hate inspired me to write sort of gay fic! haha! fuck you guys  
> un-beta'ed as heck, pls comment with criticism/corrections/literally anything

They've been out there for hours, waving their stupid signs and chanting their stupid chants - which, for the record, were unheard throughout the whole concert, because it was a _concert_. Jack didn't know what they were trying to achieve because they didn't unsettle the fans and they certainly didn't unsettle the band. They were just fucking annoying, and when he was coming back from the liquour store with a bottle of jack for the guys and they were still there, freezing their dicks off to vomit hate all over the place, he'd had enough. "Hey," He said angrily, rounding on the seven or eight picketers still hanging around. "What the fuck is your problem?" The youngest girl, about eighteen, puffed herself up proudly. "We're here to preach the sins of-" "Yeah, yeah," Jack cut her off and she looked pissed. "But why are you _still_ here when we got the memo like, three hours ago and ignored it like, three hours ago?" She smiled, and while it looked innocent Jack knew she was a fucking she-devil. Which was ironic, coming from a baptist church. Not that they could really fall back on the whole loving religion thing anymore. "You're not taking our message seriously," She said gravely, far too grim for any teenager, Jack thought. "So we're going to have to make you." Her eyes flicked to the side, looking behind Jack, and before he had time to turn there was a loud _thwack_ and he fell into a fucking black hole.

The first time he became conscious, it was only for a few seconds. Voices. Swaying. A curse. Then darkness again. The second time, he was laying down in the dark and he couldn't for the life of him remember how he'd gotten there. Had he passed out and been brought up to his hotel room or something? He raised a hand to rub his eyes and his knuckles grazed fuzzy material. He pressed his hands against it and froze. That was when the pain in the back of his head kicked in and he swore blindly, running his hands around whatever he could reach as his head throbbed viciously. "Oh my god," He whispered. He was in some sort of box. He was in a box. Jack Barakat, number one claustrophobic, had been _trapped in a fucking box somewhere_.

Kicking back in one of the armchairs in their suite, Alex flicked the rim of his beer bottle, listening to the dull chime. He glanced at the clock and frowned. Eleven o'clock at night and Jack hadn't even sent him a text. Not even a picture of whatever bar he was trying to conquer. He glanced around at the other band members sprawled all over the other furniture; Rian was half asleep, eyes almost closed. Zack was folding his clothes. Which meant that he was drunk, because Zack was never fucking domestic. "Hey, have any of you guys heard anything from Jack?" Alex queried, trying to sound casual and almost nailing it. He was a little concerned, though. "Nah, man," Rian mumbled and Zack shook his head. Distractedly, he chuckled, "He's probably passed out in some blonde chick's bed right about now, you know how he is." Alex nodded sagely. "You'll hear from him in the morning, man, he texts you first." Alex drummed his blunt nails on the screen of his iPhone. "Sure does," He muttered, and then raised his eyebrows when the screen lit up with 'Jacky'(named so just because he knew it bugged Jack 90% of the time). "Well, call me Duncan and tickle my ear." He said, and Zack snorted a laugh. "I must be psychic, calling him to me at the drum of my fingertips." He slid the answer button across and held the phone to his ear. "Jack, y'sly dog- what?" His eyes widened, tone changing, and the other band members looked up.

After about five minutes of shouting, rocking and beating the inside of the box, Jack gave up. He almost gave up living, in fact, because he didn't want to be in here anymore. Not at all. It was a fucking emergency, a- phone. He should call. Emergency people. 911? No. Too much. Wouldn't help. _Alex_. "Alex," He gasped, ripping his phone out of his skinny jeans, fumbling with the touch screen and struggling to force his arm up near his ear. It rang and rang, and although Jack wasn't the praying type, he fucking _prayed_ for his _life_. There was irony in that, somewhere, but he wasn't coherent enough to pay attention. There was a click and he almost screamed. "Jack, y'sly dog-" Alex said, just as Jack rushed through, "I'm trapped in a box." "What?" Alex asked, surprised, and Jack gritted his teeth. "I'm trapped in a fucking box somewhere, Alex, I don't know where the fuck I am." There was a pause and Alex's voice slowed down. "Are you sure you're not drunk? High?" It wasn't a patronizing voice, but Jack snapped anyway. " _No_ , Alex, no, I am not fucking drunk or high, I think it was those religious nuts- I was arguing with the girl and-" His breathing was strangling his words- "Someone hit me- woke up here and- I can't-" He made a defeated noise, breath rasping like nothing he'd ever heard from his own mouth before. "Alright, alright," Alex said quickly, and there was the sound of movement.

Alex grabbed his coat and shoved his feet into converse almost in one movement, signalling to the guys. "Just breathe, Jack. Breathe. It's okay. We're gonna find you." He put his palm tightly against the microphone end of the iPhone and spun to face Rian and Zack. "Those WBC pricks have trapped Jack somewhere," He growled, and Zack looked livid. Rian pulled a jacket on, worry lining his face. "You know how he is with tight spaces, so don't say anything too loud about it. We have to find him soon or he's gonna suffocate himself," He yanked the door open. "He could be anywhere," He muttered as he brought the phone back up to his ear, ready to listen.

"Just breathe, Jack. Breathe. It's okay. We're gonna find you." There was a muffled sound, and hand over the mic, Alex's voice sunk into a blurred, underwater-type noise. The only thing he caught was 'he could be anywhere', and it didn't fucking help him at all. Then Alex's voice was back and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, heart thundering in his chest. "Can you hear anything, Jack? Around you?" Jack listened, he did, but there was just rushing. Hot rushing, the rushing of his blood in his ears whispering _trapped_ , hissing _forever_ , spitting out silky promises that Jack would die in this cramped space. "No I can't, Alex, I can't hear anything, _Alex_ ," he choked on a whimper and heard Alex's intake of breath on the other end of the phone.

" _Alex_ ," Jack almost cried, and a strong hand grasped Alex's lungs and gave them an empathetic squeeze, because Jack had never sounded this desperate. This hurt. "Please." And his heart was constricted for good measure; his best friend was locked up, scared out of his fucking mind by his biggest phobia and right now Alex was helpless to stop it. He felt shit, but he knew Jack must feel worse. "Help me, please." In his words he heard the underlying panic of _I'm gonna die here, I'm gonna die here alone_ , and he bit his lip so hard it bled as he took the stairs three at a time, elevators too slow. He heard Rian and Zack behind him, feet flying.

"Please," He whispered, squeezing his eyes so tightly shut it made the darkness behind them pop with colour. "Help me, please." He didn't give a fuck about his masculinity right now, his dignity, he just wanted out, _out,_ out of this tiny fucking space that felt like it was suffocating him, drowning him, strangling the life out of him with it's constriction. "I can't _breathe_ ," He hissed desperately, and a tear made its way past the barrier of his eyelashes to mingle with the sweat rolling down the side of his nose. "Yes you can, Jack, yes you can-" "GET ME OUT OF THIS," He shouted abruptly, pummeling as well as he could with his free hand, which was not very well in such a confined area. " _GET ME OUT, GET ME OUT, PLEASE_ ," he yelled, voice hoarse, sliding into a sob at the end.

"GET ME OUT, PLEASE," Alex jerked away from the phone guiltily, eyes stinging at the terror in Jack's voice. Claustrophobia was fucking real, and horrible, and he didn't know what Jack was going through but he'd take it for himself if it meant he didn't have to experience it. He was so desperate, scared like a little kid, relying on Alex. It cut him, digging deeply into his heart and he tried not to get emotional because that wouldn't help fucking _anyone_. "Listen to me," He started, voice wobbling.

Biting back sobs that he could barely contain, barely care to contain, Jack was so close to just letting the restrictive space swallow him up and take all his breath away. When he spoke again, Alex's voice trembled with worry. "Listen to me, Jack, _listen_ to me." Jack gasped in, in, couldn't let it go. " _Jack._ " He snapped, and Jack choked. "Yes," He wheezed, and Alex made a positive noise. "Good, are you listening?" He could hear the rustling, doors closing. He was listening. "Yes," He repeated breathlessly, and he hurt. His head hurt, his lungs hurt, his chest was aching. His head swam as he listened to Alex. "Breathe with me." He demanded, and Jack heard the long inhale from the other end of the line. "If you don't breathe, I don't breathe." He said bluntly, and Jack inhaled shakily. "Okay." He whispered. "Out, Jack. Out." Alex sighed, long and slow. Imitating him, Jack released his breath and the pressure behind his forehead eased, just slightly. "In." He murmured, and Jack complied. "Out." A door slammed.

Alex did the only thing he could; he copied the dozens of self-help panic attack videos and articles he'd watched and read over the years and relayed them over the phone. It was his only strategy, the only thing he could think to do. It'd helped him, and he just really, really hoped it'd help Jack. He told him in, out, demanding, commanding, until he could hear Jack's breathing loud and clear, obedient. "Out." He swung out of the hotel entrance, glancing around as if Jack's location would be glowing, video game easter egg style. It wasn't, and he walked helplessly around the side to where the truck was. There were wood splinters on the floor, but no one to be seen. No witnesses, then. Fuck. Alex closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his eyes as Zack sprinted to the dumpsters outside the hotel and checked inside them, fruitlessly. 

Jack did as he was told, breathed with Alex, breathed for Alex, breathed in Alex. "Now. Listen, Jack, just calm down and close your eyes and _listen_. What can you hear?" Jack closed his eyes, pressed his lips together. "Traffic," He breathed. "Traffic. I'm- I'm near a road." "Good," Alex said slowly. Then Jack fucking shit himself as a horn tore through the silence, traffic coupled with a slight swerving sound. "Jack, Jack- did you hear that, man? The horn?" "Yes, I did- Alex, I-" "It's okay," Alex said quickly. "That's real good Jack, means you're close. Now. What's the place you're in like?" He avoided the word 'box' deliberately, Jack knew. Didn't really made him any less scared, but in a far corner of his mind he appreciated the gesture. "It's fuzzy," He said slowly. "Fur...ry." His brain pounded, because he knew what it reminded him of, knew he should remember, _knew_ \- "Like an equipment case?" Alex shot back and Jack swore, hands shaking. " _Yes_ ," he ground out, voice like gravel.

They were standing next to traffic right now, Jack's clue, but there were more roads in Philidelphia than stars in the sky and it didn't really narrow it down. Turning in a slow circle, willing for something, _something_ , a _sign_ , he jumped when some asshole tooted his horn loudly at being cut off. Jesus. Wait. "Jack, Jack- did you hear that, man? The horn?" He asked quickly, hopefully, so fucking hopefully, "Yes, I did- Alex- I-" He cut off Jack's stuttering fast, relief washing through him like a fucking tsunami. _Save your breath, buddy, I'm coming._ "It's okay." Next was where, specifically. What box? Fuzzy? _Furry_? His eyes landed on the truck next to the tour bus and widened impossibly. No fucking way. "Like an equipment case?" He asked, hardly believing it, and Jack hissed out an affirmative swathed in forehead-smacking self hatred. Rian was already at the truck in question, pulling away the remnants of the smashed metal lock. Alex hardly heard Jack's question, hauling the tall 'back door' open and pushing the roll-up door over his head.

"Am- am I in the f-fucking truck?" Jack got out, somehow, and then there was a loud grating noise and light, a muted yellow glow illuminated a crack in the case he was in. "Yeah, Jack, I think you are," Alex said, relief blooming in his voice, palpable because now Jack couldn't just hear it on the phone but for real, only feet away, here with him. "Hey!" He shouted, voice breaking, and there was a lot of stumbling and crashing before footsteps landed next to him. Metallic flicks of heavy duty clips sounded, the clicking of the number codes that served as an old-school lock, and then air. Fresh air, fresh light, Alex. Jack stared up at him, eyes wide and stinging, blinded. A hand grasped his free one and pulled him to his feet, strong arm wrapping around him when he stumbled. He couldn't speak, lump in his throat swallowing his words. Slowly, holding his gaze, Alex reached up to Jack's ear and pulled the phone from his fingers. He put both mobiles away and smoothed out Jack's iron grip from statuesque to normal, and that was when Jack practically jumped him.

Wrapping both arms around him he clung for dear life, Alex's hands patting him hard on the back. "Th-they wanted to scare me, us, I think," He got out, trying not to sob like a kid. "They- they got me s-so good, man." And that was when he dropped the pretense, crying into the crook of Alex's neck and soaking the collar of his tshirt. Quietly, Zack and Rian clambered over the boxes and equipment to join, not hugging but patting, rubbing, soothing. Comforting. Alex's eyes burned physically and figuratively, tears and anger as he held a shaking twenty-five year old. "It won't be good for them." He promised, dark and quiet. He met Rian's eyes, and then Zack's. No fucking way would they get away with this.


End file.
